The End Days
by 874509
Summary: Follows an Assassin before, during and after the great war. The Dark Brotherhood will burn under the weight of warfare before it's dragged back up. 15 years before the Dawnguard reform, Vannius fights to keep himself and the Brotherhood alive as Tamriel tears itself apart through war. Read, review, follow or favourite, everything is appreciated. Prequel to my story Dawnguard.
1. Eight Months

Chapter I

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"Eight Months"

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15 years before the reformation of the Dawnguard

Vannius 23 years old

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The sun beats down, roasting the golden sands. A man stands on one of the dunes, a Redguard with the traditional robes of the Alik'r warriors, chain mail just visible underneath it. He stands there with one hand resting on his hip and the other on the hilt of his scimitar. He moves his weight from one leg to the other, looking disinterested with the scene before him.

He takes a few steps down the dune walking closer to the other two people, one of them an Imperial with the black leather armour covered with steel studs and chainmail. He punches the other man in the face, hard sending him to the ground coughing.

The third person, an Altmer slumps to the floor. A bruise forming on his cheek and underneath his badly swollen eye. He spits up some blood, a couple of teeth following with it. The Altmer shifts away slightly, moving away from the Imperial.

He looks at the Redguard and gestures to the Altmer. "You want to try?" He asks gruffly, his voice raspy and gravely. He steps back from the Altmer, pulling his waterskin round to take a drink. "My hands starting to ache." He completely turns his back on the Altmer now walking away, struggling in the sand.

"This is a fruitless endeavour friend." The Redguard remarks, although it doesn't stop him from punching the Altmer in the face as well. "We know they plan to attack." He says turning to face the Imperial.

"Aye." The man says walking to the side. "But you don't know where from." He tells him, pointing at the Altmer and then to the Redguard. "That can turn the tide in any battle." He grumbels, taking another swig from his waterskin. He walks back over to the Altmer, looking down at him. He tilts his head to the side as he stares at the beaten mer. "He doesn't know owt." He grumbles to the Redguard.

The Redguard crouches down behind the Altmer and puts his hands over his eyes, spreading his fingers to pull them open. "We should pin his eyes open and shackle him." The Imperial raises an eyebrow. "His eyes will dry up, leave him in the darkness." He looks at the Imperial for his opinion, before pulling out a curved dagger and sliding it across the mer's neck, severing the artery and spraying blood over the shinning Dominion armour. "We should head back." He tells the Imperial. He gives out a loud whistle and the sand shifts around them, revealing the Alik'r warriors who had been hiding only seconds before.

"The attack will be in the next few days." The Imperial mumbles to him. "You've got a week at most." The Redguard stares at him and the others on horseback bring two more horses for them. "Are the Alik'r ready for that." The Redguard climbs onto one of the offered horses the Imperial doing the same on with the other horse. He gives a nod and then begins to ride the horse back to the Alik'r base.

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The Alik'r base can't really be called a base. It's just an underground cave with a few carved out tunnels scattered around with various crates and other equipment in them. The Alik'r warriors themselves are around seventy strong, vastly outnumbered should they come under attack from the Dominion.

The Redguard and the Imperial walk through the dark caves into a larger carved out room with a wooden table with a map rolled out on top of it. There's a man looking at it, an Alik'r warrior their leader. "Ahh brother Jagald." He says grabbing the forearm of the other Redguard. He looks at the Imperial. "Vannius." The imperial nods at him. "The scouts have been out, Dominion forces advance from the west." He tells them.

He walks around the table and brushes passed the two heading out of the room. "Taliz." Vannius calls to him. "Who leads them?" He asks walking after the leader of the Alik'r. "I've been here for eight months and I'm anxious to return to Cyrodiil."

Taliz turns around to face him, they both stop walking. "A female Altmer by the name of Eldoril." He starts to walk again, turning to face Vannius over his shoulder. "Your target?" Vannius nods and rests his hand on his belt. "Ha, then you might finally return to Cyrodiil." He gestures for some of the other warriors to follow him as he walks.

They leave the cave and stand in the dunes, facing the west. Smoke from the Dominion fires can be seen in the distance, they aren't going to bother being quiet, they know they'll win. There's the faint sound of the Dominion war horns in the distance. "How many your men count?" He asks Taliz.

The Redguard looks at the smoke. "Around five hundred, they probably plan on going straight through us and into Cyrodiil." Vannius looks at him. "The Empire are the real threat to the Dominion, we're just holding them back." He walks back into the cave, quickly rushing back into the room at the back. "When they attack they'll push us back to here." He grumbles pointing to a spot on the map. "Then we will have to retreat."

"No." Vannius grumbles. "That's why when they attack you don't try and hold your ground." He tells Taliz. He points at the area on the map where the Dominion are attacking from. "When they attack they'll keep formation. So instead of trying to hold it and getting pushed to here." He says pointing at the map. "You push forward and cut straight through the middle of their ranks." He tells Taliz.

Taliz stares at him. "Straight through the middle?" He asks looking at the map. "My men will die." He grumbles staring down at the map. "It will be suicide and we won't be able to retreat if the tide turns."

Vannius takes a couple of steps back and looks at Jagald he gives a short nod and steps forward. "Better to die fighting then be stabbed in the back." He tells Taliz. "You know they'll all agree with me." He adds.

"Are you trying to threaten my leadership?" Taliz demands, Vannius pulls his head back and stabs a steel dagger into the small of his back abrupty ending Taliz's questions. He gasps as the dagger digs in deeper and Vannius wraps his arm around the Redguard's neck putting pressure on his windpipe. He claws at Vannius' arm but he doesn't let up on the pressure.

Jagald walks out of the room into the main barracks where the Alik'r warriors are. "Taliz is dead!" He shouts to them. "The Dominion are on the advance! Tomorrow we will ride out to meet them and we will cut straight through them!" He shouts, the plan to attack is met with the shouts of the other warriors eager to bring the Dominion down and kill any and all that they see.

Vannius steps into the entry of the back room, leaning against the wall slightly. He smirks to himself. These Alik'r warriors will do all the work for him, he will only need to focus on Eldoril. Then he can finally return to Cyrodiil.

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The Alik'r are ready for battle and with the leadership of Jagald they might actually get what they seek. The Redguard looks back at Vannius who's sat on his horse. He pets the side of the animal's neck and looks at the other warriors around him. He's never been in a battle before small skirmishs but never a battle, especially one where the main plan was to ride a horse into the enemy ranks.

"Brother!" Jagald calls from his horse at the front of the group. He turns on his horse to face Vannius who digs his heels in the side of the horse making it trot forward to meet him. Jagald stares out at the Dominion forces who march forward steadily. They have spears held high and the banners of the Dominion held ready. "Are you ready brother?"

Vannius laughs slightly, watching the soldiers. He turns his attention to the redguard warrior. "To ride into the jaws of oblivion?" He asks him, grinning. The other man nods, drawing his sword and twirling it around his fingers. Vannius looks back out at the legion of soldiers. "I never put much faith in an afterlife." He grumbles.

Jagald barks out a laugh. "Then we'll stain the sand with their blood!" He shouts and the rest of the Alik'r cheer. He holds his sword in the air and rest of the warriors draw theirs. "With me brothers!" He orders. Vannius draws his own short sword and Jagald gives out a war cry and makes the horse brake out into a gallop.

The Alik'r force of seventy seven strong ride out to meet the Dominion army of five hundred. The horses gallop and the Alik'r shouts their war cries, some of the twirling their curved sword around in anticipation of the coming fight. The Dominion come to a stop and there's an unclear shout from the ranks as the Dominion lower their spears and raise their shields.

The command is at the back, Eldoril ordering her soldiers away from the front lines. The first of the Alik'r hit the Dominion, forcing their horses into a jump and they hit the front ranks. There's the sequel of the horses getting hit by the spears. Vannius leads his horses straight through the cut down ranks as some of the other soldiers try to attack with their swords, quickly abandoning their spears.

Jagald jumps off his horses and tries to engage the Dominion soldiers on equal footing, quickly getting cut down after he slit one of their throats and thrusts his sword into another's stomach. The remaining Alik'r, now about forty odd strong continue to fight to the death, the heavy clanks of steel on steel and loud cries of the horses, men and mer alike filling the dry desert air.

Vannius reachs Eldoril. He drops his boot down from his saddle and kicks one of her guards in the face, knocking him onto his back. He quickly forces the horse forward as one of the other guards drives his spear into the animal. He manages to ride forward and stab Eldoril in the chest, pulling her from her horse and onto the sand.

The Alik'r continue to ride the few of them behind him quickly cutting through her guards. Vannius' horse falls, landing on the ground and pinning its rider to the ground by his leg. He turns while laying on the sand the horse's weight keeping his leg down. He pulls his dagger from his belt and pulls his free leg back towards him, kicking his boot into the dead horse and starts to push as hard as he can.

There's shouts from around him as the last of the Alik'r fight to their last breaths. Vannius gets to his feet and stumbles away from the dead animal. One of the soldiers readies a spear to attack one of the warriors. He quickly grabs the mer's arm and stops him from pushing the spear forward. He stabs the steel dagger into the mer's chest, pulls it out and repeats the action, breaking through the chainmail and flesh. He drops the body and keeps the spear. Another of the mer charges at him with a sword, the polished steel and gold reflecting the light well. He thrusts the spear at the mer and the sharp head cuts into the mer's neck. Spilling blood onto his shining armour.

He drops the spear onto the sand and turns to move away from the battle. He stops at Eldoril's body and presses his boot to her neck, pulling his sword free. He looks down at the dead Altmer, her face pulled into a look of pain and shock. He quickly moves away, back towards the where the Dominion were heading from. He can hide in the dunes for the night. Wait for the Dominion to carry on with their march.

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 **Gonna do the same thing with this story as I've been doing with my other story "Dawnguard". If you feel so inclined then why don't you just review, follow or favourite of if you want to do all three.**


	2. The Whore

Chapter II

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"The Whore"

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Vannius

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21 years before the reformation of the Dawnguard

Vannius 16 years old

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My boots stick in the mud as I walk down the path. The rain is heavy and the sky is dark, obscuring my view and making it so I can barely see in front of me, only really the lights of the inn and the small village just down the dirt road. I pull the pack over my shoulder, adjusting it to make it more comfortable. There's a sharp sound to my left and I turn to look in the direction it came from, my soaking wet, long dark hair sticking to my forehead. I scratch absently at the scruff on my chin, squinting slightly in the darkness.

I put my right hand on the hilt of my sword. I might not be the most skilled or the strongest fighter out there but I can hold my own well enough in a fight. As long as there is a way out. I just ignore the noise thought, why bother waiting around when I know exactly where I need to go. I miss the Hammerfell holds, the villages, the cities. Cyrodiil is fucking dismal. The once great capital of the Septim Empire is now a war torn mess of a province, the houses and powerful families constantly fighting amongst themselves and the Mede's ruling like the warlords they are and not like the leaders they pretend to be.

There's a dog tied up outside the inn, it barks at me as I walk by, showing its teeth as I does spit flying from its mouth. I glance at it and then stop walking, looking around the village. There's a couple of "guards" down the road. They don't look like guards, they're not wearing proper armour just scraps of fur and leather, cheaply made iron swords and wooden shields. There swords aren't much better than mine. They're holding torches high to light the area around them, they don't look like the guards I've seen in some of the Northern, border villages they would beat, rob or just murder you as soon as look at you. Rape if you're a woman, there's the stories of them taking it in turns.

I walk up the steps to the inn's door, grabbing the handle I open it quickly. The inn doubles as a whore house, the whores just milling about the place. Their clothes are revealing but not enough so to stop people from paying to see the rest. I walk in, my boots thudding heavily on the floor. A few of the whores look around at me, giving me queer looks, I suppose most of the people in these southern villages don't wear fur and leather armour when they visit a whorehouse. I stop in the middle of the room, looking around at everyone in the room.

"Oi!" I shout over the chatter of them all. They look around at me, not everyone. Some of the patrons and the whores are too busy with each other. "Rellona Corian!" I shout at them. They give me blank look as I stand there. "Where is she?!" I ask them, looking at one of the whores in particular an older blonde woman, wrinkles around her blue eyes and a scar on her left cheek. I walk over to her, hand resting on the pommel of the iron sword at my hip. "You look like you might know." I say to her once I get closer.

She looks at me, giving out a long sigh. "Go home boy." She grumbles, brushing me off quickly. She looks down at the floor then back up at me. "Before you get yoursen hurt." She mutters.

I shift my weight from one leg to the other, moving my left hand down from the pommel and onto the hilt. I curl my fingers around the leather wrapped iron and absently tap my fingers on it. Everyone in the room is watching now. "I won't be the one getting hurt." I tell her. I lift my hand from my sword and stroke her right cheek slightly, she flinches from my touch slightly. "Maybe you'd like a matching scar?" I grumble to her.

She looks fearful for a moment and I almost regret saying that but really I need to find Rollona. It must be a painful memory, how she got that scar. It looks like the cut was deep and it stretches down quite far. Still I keep my hand on her cheek. She tries to shy away again but I just keep my hand there.

"So." I mumble, rubbing my thumb on her cheek. She looks at me, the fear is perfectly clear in her eyes. "Would you?" I ask her, I pull a small curved dagger out from the back of my belt. "Or do you feel like telling me what I want to know?"

"She's upstairs." She tells me, finally answering my question. I drop my hand away from her face, moving it back to the hilt of my sword. "Second door on the right." She tells me, I put the dagger away.

I turn around and walk away quickly, moving towards the stairs. The upstairs of the building is tight and cramped, warm and musky. The stench in the air is thick. I walk up the stairs quickly, the smell getting a lot stronger the higher up I get. I reach the second door on the right and try the handle, the door swinging open slowly. I walk in and there she is, in a bed with a Bosmer.

I stand in the door way, looking at them for a few seconds. "Rellona Corrian?" I call over to her, the Bosmer turns around and looks at me. He goes to try and muscle me out of the room. I draw my sword holding it low and ready, the Bosmer looks scared for a moment. "Out." I grumble, he does as I say and rushes out of the room. "You're Rellona Corrian?" I ask her, moving to the side of the room.

She nods at me, not really bothering to cover herself up. "And who are you?" She asks in a sultry tone. She looks me up and down. "Got any coin?" She asks.

"I'm your son." I tell her, moving my sword around a bit. She looks confused for a moment before she quickly covers herself up.

"Right." She mumbles. "My bastard son." She spits at me, getting up I hold the sword up at her, the tip almost touching her chest. She stumbles back slightly.

"Aye." I grumble, taking a step forwards so she has to lean back more, the tip of the sword pressing against her. "You're my mother." I grumble, letting the sword drop slightly. "The whore." I walk back a couple of steps, leaning against a table. I half sit on top of it, letting my sword rest on my knee. I look down at the floor and rub my chin, rubbing my gloved fingers against the scraggly hair on my chin.

"So then." She mumbles. "What do you want?" She asks, I look at her and she stares back at me. There's a look in her eyes that I can't describe, I can't figure out what she might be thinking. I don't really know how I expected this would turn out, this seems pretty close to how I imagined. What is going to happen? What do I want? "Your father?" She asks, I nod my head absently. "Luckily for you I know who your father is."

"Aye?" I grumble, tapping my sword against my knee. "Suppose I should know." I mumble, looking at her properly. "Don't really want to know, but I probably should." I stand up properly and slide my sword back into the leather scabbard on my belt. I put my left hand on the hilt and tuck my right thumb under my sword belt.

"Well what do you want from me?" She asks, standing up and getting out of the bed. She leaves the sheets on the bed and walks over to a table, naked. I stare at the back of her head. "Do you want advice?" She turns around to face me. "Want me to tell you that I love you and I regret ever giving you away?" She takes a couple of steps towards me. "Because you will never hear those words from me. I'm glad I never had to raise a bastard, especially a Nord bastard." She grumbles.

"My father was a Nord then?" I ask her, looking her in the eye. I walk around the bed and over to where she is. "He alive?" I grumble.

She smirks slightly, sitting on the bed. "Why would I know?" She mumbles. "If you want to find him and if you get as far away from here and fucking possible he was in Gildi last I knew." She mutters to me. I stand there waiting, she looks at me expectantly. "So fuck off."

I just turn around and walk out, stopping in the doorway. I lean against the doorframe slightly, looking at the whore. "I was going to kill you." I grumble at her. "Don't really know why. But I wanted to stab you in the stomach as soon as look at you." I tell her.

She spreads her arms out. "That's how these types of things always end." She says smugly. "The bastard kills the whore." She spits at me. "Maybe your barbarian of a father can teach you how to kill a person properly." She mocks.

I draw my sword and walk back into the room fully. "I don't hate you." I grumble at her. She takes a couple of steps back as I approach her. "That's why I'm not going to kill you." I mumble, sliding my sword back into the scabbard. She looks slightly relieved but for some reason disappointed. Maybe one day I'll understand, I don't think I ever will but maybe one day I hopefully can.

My father lives in Gildi. Not a place I want to go but if my father's there I might as well meet him and get some answers.


	3. The End Days

**If you read this then thanks. Review, follow or favourite if you like it, always appreciated. Bit of a slow chapter will pick up later.**

* * *

Chapter III

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"The End Days"

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Vannius

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15 years before the reformation of the Dawnguard

Vannius 23 years old

* * *

I pull the horse back into the treeline, tying the reins to a tree. I tighten the straps on the scabbard attached to the saddle, wrapping my fingers around the swords hilt. It was difficult even getting into Cyrodiil, the Empire are desperately trying to hold their borders and the Dominion are desperately trying to push them, seems both of them rushed to war without the man power or the money to support it.

I walk out of the treeline, resting my hand on top of the hatchet at my waist. The Imperial City, the crowing jewel of Cyrodiil, the greatest architectural achievement in Tamriel. Now it stands ravaged by the repeated assaults by the Dominion and slowly but surely being starved out by the Dominion forces. Seems the Thalmor rushed into attack the capital and now they've been forced to retreat.

By the looks of it the Imperials are on the march to cut them off and regain full control of the capital and Cyrodiil. They've managed to break the Thalmor lines and now they're just marching towards them, banners held high and proud. They're on the walls, catapults and archers ready in case of another assault, looks like no one will get in or out.

"You get it done?" I turn my head to look at the woman, the listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Alisanne Dupre, she walks towards me, looking out at the Imperial City. "We sent you out ten months ago so I should hope you did." She mumbles to me.

I turn away from her and look out at the city again. "I did." I tap my fingers on the axe, gazing out at the once proud city. "Didn't stop the march." I grumble to her. I look at the listener, the hard faced Breton, brown eyes and dark blonde hair. She's not wearing her armour, hasn't for a couple of years now, ever since she stopped going out on contracts. "Dominion reinforcements will be here within the week." I grumble, closing the short distance between us. I raise my right hand and point at her, rest my left hand on my axe. "That attempt to slow them down was futile." I snap at her.

"Our efforts are never futile." She argues back. "I have lead the brotherhood true and I will continue to lead them." She turns away from me to look at the two armies. "We have slowed the march down, now we can reorganise ourselves."

She doesn't look at me, I stare at her face, waiting for her to turn her attention back to me. "They'll know who killed her, or they will have suspicions." That catches her attention, she looks at me, anger clear in her eyes. "All we've done is made ourselves a bigger target then we already were."

"She knew who we were!" She shouts at me, getting in my face. "We were already a target!" She walks away from me. "It doesn't matter if they march on! They aren't heading straight for our front door!" She rests her hand on a small dagger at her waist.

I turn away from her and pull on my horses reins, I put my hand on the sword hanging from the saddle. I look at her over my shoulder. "I'm heading to the sanctuary, I'm going to ready defences for the Thalmor attack that will hit us."

She walks over to me and I pull the horse out of the treeline. "No it won't." She mumbles in answer.

I lean in close to her face, leaning my head to the side slightly as I try and catch her eye. "It will." I grunt at her, I climb onto the horse and pull the reins tight around my left hand. "Wait." I dig my heels in the horse's side and whip the reins, making the horse break into a quick trot.

* * *

Cheydinhal, the whole holds just about deserted, only the odd person milling around. The only people left are the women, children, the old and the sick and a handful of guards to "protect" them. I sit on the horse as it slowly walks through the centre of the of the hold, the gates were wide open with one guard covering them a man approaching the end of his life by the looks of him or at least approaching the end of his service to the guards.

The sign for the inn swings slowly in the wind, creaking as it does. A woman with a small child gives me a strange look, I'm probably the only man she's seen for at least a couple of months. I lead the horse to the inn and climb down, wrapping the reins around the bannister outside. The woman walks across the road.

"Where is everyone?" I call to her, I already know the answer they've gone to fight for the Empire and the Emperor. The hold will look like this for a long time, depending how long the war is fought. I walk over to her and pull my hood down to try and look even slightly more approachable.

She walks over to me she's an imperial, dark reddish hair and brown eyes, pale complexion. "Soldiers came around about three months back." She answers for me. "Took anyone who could hold a sword and fit a helmet." I nod as she speaks and look off to the side. "Only the blacksmith left, they send people to take any swords and pikes he's made." There we go.

"How often?" I ask her, lean back on my left leg slightly.

She thinks for a moment, looking up as she does. "Once every fortnight." She looks at me strangely, suspicious eyes burning into my own. "Why?"

I stare back at her. "Might be important." I tell her. So they come once a fortnight to take arms from the blacksmith, once they stop it'll either be because the Thalmor have taken the hold or because the Empires on the retreat. I walk back to the horse and pull the straps on my sword pulling it off. "Oi." I call to the woman. "Food and water." I grumble to her, pulling my pack off the saddle. "For the horse." She nods and rushes away.

I walk to the abandoned house. The Sanctuary deep in the basement, I walk down the wooden steps and open the thick black door. The Sanctuary is dark and smells damp I walk straight forward into the hallway with the bunks, going straight to the empty one. I drop my sword against the wall, hilt near the bed and put my pack on the small table. I pull off my sword belt and hang that by a hook on the wall.

The bed creaks as I sit on it, the old wood straining. I pull my gauntlets off and stretch out my hands slightly. Rubbing the back of my neck, I stare at the door opposite me and push my hair out of my face. Run my hand over my beard. I lean as far back as I can, my back hitting the wall, I let my head roll back and close my eyes.

"You're right." Alisanne grumbles, I open my eyes and look to see her in the doorway. It's only been a day or so but she looks a lot older than she did last time I saw her. I sit up properly and rest my elbows on my knees, dropping my head in my hands. "Thalmor will attack, a couple of them ambushed me on the road." She walks over and sits down next to me on the bed. "We don't have the manpower or resources to survive an attack." She tells me.

I rub my face and look back up to the door. "We won't have to." I grumble. "We can wait them out, hopefully the Empire can push them back." I tell her. "Then we can move, head to Skyrim." I mumble, looking at her. "The sanctuary there should be able to hold out, Thalmor don't look to be interested in Skyrim."

She hums to herself, and looks at me. "I tried contacting them four months ago, they never sent anything back." She shakes her head and turns away from me. She puts her hands in her lap and leans back. "Our best bet for survival is to choose our moment." She tells me. "Gather the remaining family and get the Night Mother North." She stands up and walks over to the door, leaning against the frame. "Bravil is under siege." She mutters, looking back at me. "We have to wait for one of them to break."

I lift my legs up and put my feet on the small table. "Who's the weaker force?" I grumble, I let my head roll back so it's touching the wall. "Imperials probably." I mutter, answering my own question. "Sabotage their food stocks, their live stocks." I tell her. "Force them to surrender." I get up and walk over to her, pushing her back against the door frame. I grab her face and kiss her, quick and hard. There's no love in the kiss, not really even any affection but it's been too long and there's not much comfort in sun bleached, blood soaked sand.

* * *

My horse trots slowly, I lean forward on the saddle. The horse comes to a stop on top of the hill. The Imperial camp is large, not nearly as big as the Thalmor camp but it should be enough to defend Cheydinhal if need be. Surprised they're not hiding behind the walls although is being in a siege much better than a fight, depends on the numbers and if the amount of tents in the Thalmor camp is anything to go by then they probably double the Imperials numbers.

I lean back in my saddle, take a drink from my water skin. We will never have the manpower or resources to survive a war like this, especially when there's two sizable armies on our door step. Break the siege of Bravil, no matter the cost and head north. Maybe I can avoid an Imperial pike long enough to be behead by Nords, eithers better than being burned alive by the Thalmor.

Maybe I should've gone north from Hammerfell, head to High Rock. There's no war in High Rock. The Imperials blow a horn, a loud blast from the middle of the camp. Thalmor cavalry most likely. I turn the horse around and head by to the Sanctuary, we should be making plans not watching to armies slaughter each other.


	4. The Warrior

**Read, review, favourite or follow. Everything is appreciated, if you liked this then give my other story a look, hopefully I will have a chance to update that one soon. Thanks for reading.**

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Chapter IV

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"The Warrior"

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Vannius

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20 years before the reformation of the Dawnguard

Vannius 17 years old

* * *

There's smoke in the distance, heavy rain beating down. I lean against a tree and watch. I've heard stories of the Iron Blood, burning and slaughtering villages on the border of Gildi. The north of Cyrodiil is completely under their heel. I start moving towards the village, the flames eating up the houses and the other buildings. According to the imperial soldiers on the roads, the Legion are finally ready to get a foothold in Gildi, seems Mede is finally using some of his war lord experience.

The shouts get louder and clearer the closer I get, the screams of the men and woman as the warriors go house to house, door to door. They're leaving no stone unturned. I draw my sword, the old iron blade is in desperate need of sharpening but its sharp enough to cut if need be. There's only one way to approach the Iron Blood and that's to prove your worth in battle.

"Help!" A woman screams, an imperial. She's soaked in blood, dragging a limping man along with a roughly forged steel sword. He trips in the deep mud pulling the woman down with him. "Please help us!" She shouts, grabbing onto my clothes and sword belt. I push her away, she falls onto her knees and a cries for help from what must have been the village guards.

I step into the middle of the village and watch the warriors as they fight the remaining guards. One of them runs off to the side and kicks in the inn's door. He quickly runs in with an iron mace. There's a loud scream from the house. One of the guards breaks his ranks and tries to run from the Nordic warriors, a pike quickly get thrust into his back.

"What do we have here?!" There's a shout from behind me, I turn to face the man who shouted. A Nord, tall and heavy built with a long braided beard, long hair hanging from his head. One eye. He walks over to me, iron axes in each hand. "Oi!" He roars at the other warriors around us, they break from what they're doing. "This… pathetic ilk wanders into our land!" He shouts, spreading his arms out, he turns on the spot. "Sword in hand!" He turns to me and raises one hand, pointing at me with the top of his axe. "Seems like a challenge to me!" He walks over to me, the axe still pointing at me.

I grip my sword tighter and move to the right, circle around him slightly. He rushes forward and swings the axe, I barely manage to raise my sword to defend myself, the axe hits the blade with more force then I was expecting and I feel the shock in my hands and run up my wrists. I stumble back slipping slightly in the mud, struggling to keep my footing. He gives out a bark of a laugh and swings his other axe, I'm quicker in blocking the swing this time but the force of the blades meeting hurts my arm more than I thought it would.

"Look at this!" He shouts, stepping back from me, I hold my sword in my left hand and flex my right. "Weakling carries a sword but doesn't know how to use it!" I step to the side slightly and rush forward, going in to try and stab my sword through his stomach, he slams his axe into the blade and knocks it from my grip, he swings the other axe straight for my face and I have to duck and roll under his arm to avoid the blade.

I come to a stop a few feet away and slip in the mud as I get to one knee and pull my dagger out. I feel a rough pull on my left arm and I turn and stab my dagger into whoever it was that grabbed me, they fall backing the mud, taking my dagger with them. Someone else grabs my right arm and pulls it back while someone quickly grabs my left again.

"Get the fuck off!" I shout at them as they force me fully onto my knees. A rag is forced into my mouth and then pulled back so I can't speak. I shake my head around to try and get them to lose their grip but they just pull down and force my face up. The rain pelts down around us as I kneel in the mud, the man with the axes walks over to us.

"Fetch the bar!" He orders, two men rush over with a wooden cross with a rope hanging from one end. The men behind me hoist me up, pulling my arms tight and pushing forward on the back of my shoulders. "Frokunn will want to meet this one." They lift me up and secure my arms around the cross section, forcing it up my arms and pushing forcefully into my back. "Get the horses!"

* * *

I fall onto my face, lying in the mud as the heavy cross lays on my back. I feel the rope start to go slack as I'm pulled up, my arms being held tightly as bite down on the knotted rag in my mouth. They drag me through the waterlogged field of mud in front of a large fort. It's mostly made of wood, cut logs supporting the walls, cobbled stone walls. They drag me into a large hall with a raised plat form on one side.

There's a large chair, not unlike a throne only nowhere near fancy enough. There's a man sat there, leather and iron armour covering his body. He has light brown hair, a bear that's be braided at the front. War paint covering his face, red running down his mouth and two lines going down from either eye. There's a half smashed skull on the floor, next to one of the chair legs, a splintered shield hanging from the ceiling.

I'm pushed onto my knees in front of him, the rag pulled out of my mouth. "He's an outsider." One of the warriors says, stepping forward. "Started a fight with Yrsagny."

The man gets to his feet and walks over to me, resting his hand on top of an iron sword, the pommel is dented and stained with old blood. "Started a fight with Yrsagny." He echoes walking around me, his footsteps heavy, chainmail clanking lowly. "And he's still alive?" His accent is heavy, though most of the Iron Blood warriors have strong accents. He hums low in his throat. "Not very impressive." He grumbles.

"Frokuun!" A man shouts, I look over to where the voice came from. It's a man with a walking stick, a heavy limp as he walks, he has greying hair. "Who's this?" He grumbles coming to a stop and leaning heavily on the stick. I look up properly and he gives me a strange look before turning back to Frokuun. "A boy looking for glory?" He grumbles out the question. "Before he gets stabbed over a bottle of mead and a chunk of bread."

"No." Frokuun grumbles in answer. "Kill him." He orders walking back to the chair.

My head is pulled back and an axe is pressed against my neck. "Wait!" I shout, struggling in the tight grips on my arms. "Wait!"

"Yes." The man with the limp calls. "Wait." He walks closer to me, looks back at Frokuun. "I say we wait, train him." He tells the other man. "At the very least Vighff can bloody his blade on him." Frokuun slumps down in his chair, props his elbow on his knee and leans forward. "It's about time he bloodied his sword with something other than a whore." Frokuun holds up a hand, must be a signal to wait before they slice my throat open. "I'll train the boy myself." He turns to look at Frokuun. "Make sure he doesn't scream too loud when he gets cut down."

Frokuun stands up again, hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. "Dead toes wants to train the boy!" He walks over to me, looks down. "Train him to cry when he gets stabbed." One of the other warriors goes up to him, passing him my sword. He holds it in his right hand, tests the balance by swinging it slightly. "Dull." He grumbles, he drops the iron longsword on the floor in front of me, it clatters loudly on the floor. "Fine, train him." He turns around and walks back to the chair. The grip on my arms relent and my head gets let go, I fall forward onto my hands.

The man with the limps walks over to me. "Follow me boy."

* * *

I fall onto the stone floor. My sword falling from my hand as I hit the hard floor. The warrior I was fighting storms away angrily as Dagmek limps over to me. Leans heavily onto the walking stick, rests his hand on a sword at his waist. "Need to stay on your feet boy." He mumbles, circling me. "If you fall you'll probably die." I get back to my feet, picking up my sword and lifting the wood and iron shield up. He leans his weight onto his good foot and tap the shield with his walking stick. "Keep that up or they'll break your skull."

I walk back towards the middle of the large room. One of the warriors walks over to me, swings his axe without warning, I lift up the shield, stumble back with the hit. I try to retaliate by swing the dulled sword but he easily steps out of the way, going in for another attack. Chips or wood break off my shield as he goes in for three quick hits, I stab with the sword to force him back. The tip of the blunt blade taps his chainmail as he moves back a few steps.

He moves in again and his axe hits my sword as I lift it quickly. I fall back onto my arse as I drop my shield. "That's enough!" Dagmek shouts. "Get up boy." He starts to limp away, stick thumping as he moves. "Go get some food down you." He stops walking and I put the dulled blade back into the weapons rack. "Get some fucking sleep and all."

I lean against the rack, and rub my arm slightly from where I landed on it repeatedly. I hear his stick thumping on the ground again as he walks. "Oi." I call to him, it stops. I turn to look at him. "Why you training me?" I ask, I'm knackered but I have to know.

Dagmek looks at the other man, the warrior. "Leave." He orders, the man looks like he's going to argue before he just huffs and walks off. "You really want to ask me boy?" He grumbles, walking towards me. "I saved you from getting your throat cut." He tells me. "That's how we kill the Imperial whores." He leans all his weight onto the stick. "You know why they call me dead toes?" I shake my head as I look down at his feet. "Yrsagny the Blind cut my foot in half." He grumbles. "Cunt didn't even give me a good death. Left me to live in shame." He growls. "A fucking cripple." He grumbles under his breath. "Vighff Mojenssen is his son and the youngest of the warriors and he needs to bloody himself." He leans in closer. "Maybe the son of Kvenknir Blood Eater can kill him." I look up at him, I know my eyes widen slightly, he hums to himself. "I know who you are. Frokuun probably does as well."

"You knew my father?" I ask the man in front of me. The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, hand rests on the hilt of his sword and he gives a small nod. "What happened to him?" I ask, look towards the doorway the warrior walked out of.

"He tried to challenge Frokuun." Dagmek mutters. "He lost." He starts to walk away. "Your father was a cunt." He tells me, stopping and putting his hand on the wall to lean. "I hope you kill Vighff but if you're half the man your father was then I hope you fall just as well." He turns to look at me over his shoulder. "You fight him in a month or so, try and learn something." He turns back and walks out, finally leaving me to eat and rest.

* * *

There's shouting, a lot of it from the main hall. I walk in, my shield held in my left hand, the leather strap loose enough to drop it if need be. Dagmek stands in front of me. I put my hand in the sodden ashes, wiping the black around my eyes, three lines going down my face.

He nods in a sort of approval. "War paint will scare small men." He grumbles, he mumbles something under his breath. "Not all." He walks back and away from me, over to Frokuun.

I walk closer to the middle of the main fall, my right hand strays to the hilt of my sword, fingers wrapping around it. I glance at Frokuun, the man who killed my father. A man I never met but all I've been told is he was a cunt with a soft spot for whores.

"So then." A man shouts, young voice. I turn to face him, Vighff, Yrsagny the Blind's son. Dagmek said he's only sixteen, he'll die today so I can live tomorrow. He's young looking, blond hair and some scruff on his face. No war paint. He pulls an axe free from his belt and readies himself, shield up. I draw my sword and hold it ready, facing him properly. "You're who I'm going to kill." He mocks.

He rushes forward, readying his axe. I take advantage of my swords reach and slash at him while putting some distance between us. He raises his shield and my blade scratches against it, leaving a jagged line in the wood. Vighff frows and then slams his axe down, I raise my shield to block the strike and then barge into him with my shield. Vighff stumbles back and falls onto his arse, raising his shield. Frokuun barks a laugh to my left. I take a few steps back, wait for a better time.

Vighff must've heard Frokuun's laugh, he gets back to his feet and grumbles something. He snarls and moves in again, swinging the axe I manage to parry the very aggressive attack with my sword. I take a few steps away, get some distance between us again. So he's that type of fighter, according to Dagmek there's three types of fighters, one's who use their head, one's who stab you in the back and then there's the ones who fight with pure emotion.

He reels back, getting as much weight behind the strike as he can get. I get myself ready for the hit, he comes in quick, quicker than I was expecting. The blade hits the shield, digging into the wood. I pull back as he pulls it free, swinging it again splinters flying from my shield. I stumble back a few steps, he jumps at me a slams the axe down into my shield. I drop down to one knee to block it easier. The wood in the middle completely splinters, the shield cracks in half. I slash out with my sword, making his move away.

I get back to my feet and drop the shield on the floor, bring my sword to the middle of my stance, both hands on the hilt. "Just fucking kill him!" Yrsagny shouts from my right. Vighff smirks and rushes in, he swings his axe. I move my sword and parry the blow, sliding the blade down the handle and bring the blade down over his fingers. Vighff cries out slightly and pulls back, dropping the axe onto the floor. He moves back, clutching his hand to his stomach and bringing his shield up. "I said fucking kill him!" Yrsagny shouts at his son again.

He rushes at me again, no weapon now. He tries to hit my with the shield, I manage to put my arm behind it and slice my sword along his stomach. He cries out again and falls onto his knees. I stab down at him, the tip of the blade stabbing deeply into the wood. I kick the shield hard, pulling the sword free. He falls onto his back, the shield falling to his side. He scrambles onto his knees as I walk towards him.

"I yield!" He shouts, holding his hands up. I stop moving towards him and hold my sword up. "Please I yield!" He repeats. I hold the sword upside down and stab down into his chest, I don't stop forcing it down until I hear the tip hit stone. I stumble back a few steps, and wipe the back of my hand against my eye.

Yrsagny storms towards me and his now dead son, shouts something I can't quite make out and holds one of his axes ready. Frokuun moves forward, he holds his long sword out. Yrsagny continues forward until the blade pushes against his bare chest. "Your son died a coward." Frokuun tells him. "Killed by a man with three months of training." The entire hall is silent, I watch Yrsagny stare at me and then turn to Frokuun. "Do you want to join him in the ground?" He asks, taking another step forward, drawing blood this time.

He grinds his jaw and then throws his axe onto the floor, spits at his son. Walks out of the hall, pushing his way out through the crowd. Frokuun pulls my sword free from the body that slumps over without the sword propping it up. He pushes it into my chest, I take it and let my arm fall to my side, he slaps me on the shoulder and walks away.

Dagmek limps over to me. He stares down at the body then looks at me, nods his head slightly. "You'll learn not to care." He mutters before walking away. I hope I don't. I need to care.


End file.
